


Fatherhood

by the_bi_banker



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Missing Scene, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 11:26:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4099294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_bi_banker/pseuds/the_bi_banker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Lestrade is sad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fatherhood

Greg always wanted children. His childhood aspirations for his future had fluctuated between many careers – policeman, or firefighter, or teacher, or sportsman, or policeman… Regardless of the job he was focussed on that week though, he’d always go home to a loving wife and kids.

However, his life had other ideas. Both he and his wife had full time jobs, so there was never any time for children. Motherhood wouldn’t have suited his anyway, as she was never one for large commitments. She was out of his life now, but it was too late; he was past his prime. He had to accept that he'll never have a family.

This was an easier truth when Sherlock was alive. Greg almost felt like a father to the man.

The day he first saw him was like any other London day – dreary, overcast, threatening rain but never providing more than a drizzle. He spotted Sherlock down an alleyway, lighting a shivering cigarette. Greg had called out to him, a lame reminder that those things kill, not really expecting a response. He wasn’t expecting a disdainful analysis of his life’s choices, and he certainly wasn’t expecting a solution to the case they’d been stuck on for a week.

Of course, he had to take Sherlock straight to the station. There was absolutely no way anyone who wasn’t involved could have been able to work it out. And yet, the man was proven innocent, and correct, and _completely_ self-righteous. After he was let go, Sherlock went to Greg and asked if there were any other cases he could work on. Greg told him that he had to clean up his act before they would consider asking his help.

And so Sherlock did. Greg barely recognised the man that turned up at the Yard a month later, with freshly cut hair, a new suit, and a winning smile. The smile, though, lasted for about two seconds before Sherlock started demanding something to work on.

At first, Greg only offered him vague details. It was enough at the time – they were fairly easy cases that he only offered to Sherlock out of courtesy. Then came a case in which Sherlock _absolutely_ needed specifics, and Greg, realising that solving it quickly was paramount, told himself _just this once_. Soon enough, Sherlock was visiting crime scenes, tampering with evidence, and insulting his officers. He really was more of a nuisance than a help, most of the time. Yet Greg couldn’t find it in his heart to stop inviting Sherlock to the crimes.

He had watched Sherlock grow from a struggling drug addict to a confidant, _arrogant_ man who could rattle off a solution to a crime in seconds. He saw a man who felt alone in the world and tried to help him belong, tried to make him feel needed. He’d even partially succeeded. Sherlock had become a relatively competent man, even before he met John. John, who'd managed to make him so much worse and so much better at the same time. Greg was certain that they were the reason his hair finally turned fully grey.

Sherlock didn't appreciate Greg's effort. He didn't even bother to remember his name. And then he went and jumped off a building and left his few friends with a missing piece in their lives and Greg realised that maybe there was a reason he didn’t have any children.

Maybe he’d fail them too.


End file.
